


Little Love

by pendragonfics



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Painting, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, gender neutral reader, no pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 07:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18846874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pendragonfics/pseuds/pendragonfics
Summary: A snapshot into the love between _________, and their boyfriend, Piotr.





	Little Love

**Author's Note:**

> This is for @rebelfinn on tumblr, my friend !! hope you like ur fluff extra cute!
> 
> ...also, I put some words in Russian, and the Russian words in a tagging so if you hover over them with ur mouse, you'll see the English translation !! Susie is being fancy tonight !

There was a warmth that seeped into your skin and warmed your soul. It happened to be the sun, and yes, you had slapped on sunblock before venturing out to bask in its rays. It was that time of the year when the planet was unsure of the season, and it happened often these days. You were always one to jump at an opportunity, and here you are; curled up on a poolside chair on the lawn, a book splayed across your chest as you laze in the warmth.

“I vas vondering where I vould find you.” A familiar voice lilted.

Cracking open an eye, you saw the figure of your boyfriend, commonly known as Colossus, towering over you. He stood in the sun enough that you could look at him without burning the yellow dot into your retina. He was out of defence mode, for once, and wore what most gym rat beefcakes would, except on him, it looked _good_.

“I wasn’t hiding,” you reply, sitting up a little. “I’m out here to read.”

Piotr nods, and slowly, takes a seat beside you on the grass. It was mown recently, and as he sat, you caught a waft of his cologne, and petrichor. Now your eyes are open, you take a moment to drink in your boyfriend. He’s shaved his stubble, and even though he’s getting used to the new razors you both picked out, there’s still a few nicks on his neck. In his hands, he holds a notebook with blank pages, and a graphite pencil.

“Did you come out to find me, or draw?” you inquire.

Piotr regards you, a smile playing on the edges of his lips. You’d been dating for a half a year now, and still, he was often amused by the things you’d say. But before he says anything, he passes you the notebook, and watches, expectantly. You flip through the pages, the earlier ones you’ve seen before; sketches of staff and students at Professor Xavier’s school, Jubilation’s pet, a couple of landmarks that the last few missions had been near -

“Both,  любовь моя.” He says.

The page that your hands linger on, are two small sketches. There’s the lawn chair, positioned from the back, where you can see that Piotr had drawn you with your book tilted toward your eyes, toes bare and legs basking in the heat. The other is what you assume he has imagined, as you don’t remember falling asleep outside; it’s your face, eyes closed, lips agape.

“Oh my - you drew me?” you whisper, quietly, feeling your heart racing. “Piotr, this is…I’ve never had anyone draw me before.”

“Do you like it,  Милый?” he asks you.

You nod, but instead of words coming, tears do. “I don’t know why I’m crying, Piotr, this is so nice,” you sniff, moving to hug him tight. “I love you so much.” He stills, and at that, you realise what you said.

“Sweet?” he asks, softly. “Do you mean zat?”

And without even hesitating, you nod, hugging your boyfriend closer. “ навсегда.”

* * *

The room was quiet, so very quiet that as you looked in, the only noises you could hear were those that Piotr was making himself. The class had left at the end of the school day, and yet, here he sat, bent over his canvas and easel just like you imagined the classical painters to have been like. Except, none of the other painters that were showcased in galleries and museums were made of metal.

Piotr wears his usual clothes, except, his shirt is one of those ones that you’re sure that all painters have; the work shirt. It’s stained, somehow even on the back, with all kinds of colours, smears of acrylics, and washes of watercolours. But it isn’t the shirt or activity that draws you closer to your boyfriend, no.

“There you are,” you breathe softly, crossing the threshold of the art classroom. You’re more of a computer science teacher, in both soft and hardware. It helped, being a technopath. But Piotr, sitting in defence mode, in the empty classroom was not what you thought you’d find, and you approach him slowly. “Sorry to interrupt, love.”

He shakes his head, not looking from the easel. As you draw nearer, you see his brush, and the fury of his hand works at. The paint has dried in layers, the colours leaving bumps, lumps and mounds that Piotr applies more colour to. You’ve never seen him paint with such urgency, and yet, here he is, working harder than anything.

You place a hand on his arm, the one that holds the pallet, and slowly, you watch as his metal reverts to skin. Piotr frowns, and pausing, looks to you. “You were in defence mode again,” you tell him, softly, capturing his gaze with your own. “Is everything okay?”

He pauses, glancing to the canvas. You take it in; it’s of a woman, with a harrowed face, eyes staring through your soul, and mouth agape, as if midscream. You recognise her wispy hair; the last mission that the X-Men had carried out, you, Piotr and Scott had saved her and her family from the crossfire of a demonstration by the Brotherhood.

“I…” he clears his throat. “All I kan see is her, zhen I dream. Her screams…”

You lay your head against his, kissing his temple. “We saved her life, and her children’s. They’re safe, Peet,” You remind him, “we saved the day.”

“But did ve?” he asks.

Slowly, you take the brush from his fingers, the pallet from his hand, and putting them on the bench, you turn to your boyfriend. “We did, that day. And all the other days before that, and right now, I,” you turn his stool from the canvas, where the woman screams into silence, toward you, “I am here to save you.”

“Ты уверен, что?” he asks, unsure.

“Of course,” you tell him, feeling assured, “I’m a superhero, you know.”

“Ah, vell zen.” A small smile spreads across his face, “…I zhink I'm in good hands.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr on as @chaotic--lovely, and if you want to request a fic, check out [@pendragonfics](https://pendragonfics.tumblr.com/request_conditions)! ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


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